


Last Night

by mangochi



Series: Last Night [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Sex Toys, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Wall Sex, all kinds of terrible things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a one night stand, Leonard meets his new boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The night before he starts work at the new hospital downtown, Leonard goes downtown and gets spectacularly wasted.

To be fair, it’s mostly Nyota’s idea, and three rounds in, Leonard’s starting to better appreciate her line of reasoning. “Think of it as a bachelor party,” she shouts into his ear, over the thumping bass from the speakers behind them. “Your last night of-“

"Unemployment?"

"Freedom," she corrects, and orders another round of shots. "To a new life, Doctor."

When Leonard throws it back, he feels it burn all the way down his pleasantly numb throat, and his eyes cross briefly when it hits his stomach. “Fuck,” he mutters, and Nyota laughs woozily.

"Hey." A hand falls on his shoulder and Leonard blinks at it uncertainly before following it up a bare, muscled arm, landing on a blurry face that snaps sharply into focus when he squints.

_Jesus Christ._

"Buy you a drink?" the man smiles, and Leonard hiccups incredulously at the color of his eyes.

"Please don’t," he manages, and the man’s grin widens.

"A dance, then."

Leonard’s skeptical; he’s not a good dancer, by any means, though what seems to be happening on the dance floor can hardly be counted as such, but he lets the man slide his hand down his arm and intertwine his fingers in Leonard’s, pulling him gently off the stool.

"Be back soon," he thinks he tells Nyota before he’s dragged off into the crowd.

The man- a few years younger than Leonard, he thinks- pushes up close behind him, hands hot and heavy on his hips, and Leonard can’t help but lean back against him, dizzy and breathless as he tries to concentrate on the flickering lights, the smell and feel of multiple bodies brushing against his and the one plastered along his back.

He doesn’t recognize the song, distorted as it is through the bar’s booming system, but the beat pounds through his veins and resonate in his chest, his bones. The man’s hips sway against his, pressing closer to Leonard’s ass, and Leonard’s breath hitches despite himself.

The man twirls him around easily, the lights reflecting oddly in his bright blue eyes, and his grin is wide and genuine. “You all right?”

"Hnn," Leonard says helplessly, his knees weak and his head spinning. He finds himself grabbing onto the guy’s black shirt, then pushing his hands under it for no reason whatsoever. He skims across hard muscle, warm and slightly damp, and the skin beneath his fingertips shivers as the man bites back a chuckle.

"Careful, doc, I’m ticklish," he says, and Leonard stills.

"Doc?"

"You’re a doctor, right?" the man asks casually. "Least, that’s what your friend called you."

Leonard blinks, then nods, the alcohol giving him a spurt of bravado. “Yeah.”

"I’m Jim," the man murmurs, and then, by some twist of gravity or fate or pure circumstance, they’re kissing.

Jim tastes like the peanuts at the bar, something sweet at the corners of his mouth and the back of his teeth, and Leonard yanks him closer by the edge of his shirt, falling deeper into the kiss. He feels something hard and hot and undeniably there against his hip, feels rather than hears an awed whisper of, “Holy shit,” against his mouth.

Jim’s hands glide up and down his back before one settles at the back of his neck, the other dropping down to his ass, and Leonard groans faintly when the latter hand squeezes enthusiastically. “Fuck, I’m-“

"Can I?" Jim breathes, panting against Leonard’s jaw, and all Leonard can do is nod jerkily, his heart beating unsteadily as the music shudders beneath his feet.

It’s all a blur of color and bright lights and darkness after that, Jim’s hand tight around his. He vaguely remembers a taxi, Jim’s hand on his knee, sliding up to grip his thigh, and then they’re tripping into a hotel room that Leonard doesn’t look too closely at.

Instead, he looks at Jim’s face, his torso, the flex of smooth skin and tight muscles as he tears his shirt off over his head and emerges with tousled blond hair, peering at Leonard expectantly.

"Oh," Leonard says belatedly, and he raises his hands to his collar, cursing himself for wearing a button down.

"Let me," Jim says, spreading his hand over Leonard’s chest and pushing him gently backwards.

Leonard’s knees hit the foot of the bed before buckling gratefully, and he sucks in a startled breath when Jim slots himself neatly between his spread knees, fingers plucking expertly at the buttons of his shirt.

"Jesus, doc," Jim mutters, sliding his hands across the exposed skin and pushing Leonard’s shirt off his shoulders. "Look at you."

Leonard grunts impatiently and raises a leg, hooking it around Jim’s waist and dragging him down so that their bodies press together. He’s confusingly hard, his brain sluggishly trying to juggle mental functions along with the insistent blood flow down to his dick, and all he knows is that he _needs_ _it now_.

"Okay," Jim says, sounding delightedly surprised as he sprawls across Leonard’s chest. "Okay, I can do that."

And he kisses Leonard until every shred of lingering reason flees the premises, his hands working at their belts and pants and trifling things like underwear until they’re naked and panting, Leonard practically shaking with the fire beneath his skin.

When Jim’s hand wraps around his cock, Leonard moans, and when Jim’s fingers are followed by his lips and tongue, the moans turns to whimpers.

Jim fucks just on the right side of rough, his fingers digging bruises into Leonard’s shoulder and hip, his ass lifted off the mattress when Jim leans forward and bends him practically in half to get at his mouth again.

"Fuck, doc," he groans, sweat dripping from his chin to land on Leonard’s cheek, and Jim licks it away, his hips thrusting forward one last time.

Leonard comes so hard that his head bangs back against the headboard, and he sees stars as he clenches tight around Jim and feels the man’s teeth sinking into his shoulder as he follows right after Leonard.

The last thing he’s completely aware of is the distinctly uncomfortable tug of Jim pulling out, a warm hand sliding across his forehead and covering his eyes, and the moment of darkness and exhaustion is enough to drag him under.

When he wakes, it’s with a sinking feeling of doom, and he doesn’t realize why until he rolls over in an unfamiliar bed and catches sight of the flickering red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, _shit_.”

Leonard has no idea where the hell he is; his pants are hanging over a lampshade, his shirt stuffed bizarrely beneath the mattress, his socks are simply gone, and his shoes are by the door. He doesn’t recognize the skyline when he looks out the window, and he has a brief an irrational moment of terror in which he imagines himself in Vegas after a shotgun wedding.

There’s no ring on his finger when he checks, though, and the alarm clock is still adamantly telling him that he has half an hour to show up at work, pressed and prim and ready for action.

Then the hangover finally hits, and Leonard briefly considers drowning himself in the shower.

But he doesn’t have time for that, so he pulls himself together the best he can, texts Nyota to bring him a bottle of aspirin, and he buys a bacon sandwich from the greasiest diner he can find on his way to get a taxi.

Luckily, the lab coat can cover his sad disarray, he reasons on the ride over, patting at his hair hopelessly. At least Jim’s left him with his wallet and his ID and all of his cards.

The bite on his shoulder throbs just at the mere thought, and Leonard kicks the feeling away irritably. It was just a one-night fuck, he reminds himself. All he has is a first name that might not even belong the man and a bite mark that certainly does.

"Here you are, bud," the cab driver says as he deposits Leonard on the front steps of the brand new hospital.

Nyota raises an astonished eyebrow as he struggles across the lobby to the receptionist desk. “ _Len_ , what the hell-“

"Don’t ask," he says grimly, and blinks down blearily at the sign-in sheet. "How late am I?"

"You’re just on time, but the director’s just been by looking for you-"

"What?" Leonard’s hand slips on his signature and the pen skates across the paper. "The director?" All he knows for sure is that the new director is the adopted son of his previous boss, Christoper Pike, some young upstart named James or John or something Kirk. "Shit."

"He didn’t look angry," Nyota assures him, then furrows her brow thoughtfully. "Looked kind of hungover, actually."

"That makes two of us," Leonard mutters, giving up on mending his signature and tossing the pen down.

"There he is now," Nyota points out, nodding over his shoulder, and Leonard turns with his best "please don’t fire me" smile plastered on his face.

His smile freezes, cracks, and melts off his face when he sees who’s just stepped off the elevator and into the lobby. “Oh, hell no.” He doesn’t say it as quietly as he thinks, and the man across the lobby looks up and meets his eyes.

The bite mark burns beneath his shirt, and Leonard touches it without thinking.

And Jim Kirk has the audacity to smile.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jim Kirk," says the man who fucked Leonard within an inch of his life just hours ago. "Dr. McCoy, I presume?"  
  
Leonard shakes his proffered hand with the feeling of someone signing his own death warrant, and tries not to think about the last time he felt Jim’s hand against his skin, running down his side, counting ribs and scratching across his stomach as he braces himself and thrusts deep- “Director.”  
  
“Jim,” Jim corrects.  
  
Leonard silently offers a garbled prayer. “…….Jim.” He’s vaguely aware of Nyota looking between the two of them, like she’s the spectator at an extremely overwhelming ping pong match, and resigns himself to the fate of being mercilessly interrogated after work.  
  
“You’re not in trouble,” Jim says, with a particular quirk to the corner of his mouth and the slightest lift of his eyebrow that tells Leonard _exactly_ what he means by that. “I’m just making the rounds on the first day, meeting new faces, all that.”  
  
“That’s nice,” Leonard says faintly, wanting to die. He hasn’t even showered from last night, and he swears he can still smell the bar on himself, feel the way Jim’s body fit against his on the dance floor. And the bastard looks immaculate, damn him, his eyes glinting amusedly behind a pair of spotless glasses and his blue tie perfectly pressed along his dress shirt.  
  
Oh God, Leonard slept with his new boss.  
  
It only hits him now, and he reels a little mentally. “I better let you go now,” Jim says, and Leonard forces himself to pay attention. “Oh, and Doctor, see me in my office before you clock out for the day, will you?”  
  
Ah, and there it is. Leonard swallows with difficulty and manages the smallest of smiles. “Of course, sir.”  
  
He is completely and utterly fucked, and surely not in the best of ways.  
  
…………………….  
  
Leonard spends the day a nervous wreck, a fact that doesn’t escape him when two of his patients burst into tears. He gives one of them, an eight-year-old with strep, a piece of candy, attempts to mollify the outraged parent, and stares helplessly at the other, a seventeen-year-old who didn’t realize that birth control pills were supposed to be ingested by his girlfriend.  
  
“Buck up, son,” is what he eventually says, and he winces instantly at his choice of words.  
  
“What if it’s a girl?” the kid whispers, horrified, and Leonard sends him on his way with an awkward handful of brochures and accessible hotlines.  
  
And then it’s the end of the day, and he finds himself standing in front of the intimidating door of the director’s office, staring at the gold letters embossed in the wooden name plate at eye level.  
  
James T. Kirk, he reads, and he wants to throw up.  
  
It doesn’t help that Leonard still thinks last night’s sex was the best he’s ever had, and he only remembers about half of it.  
  
He knocks once, hoping it won’t be heard, but a second later, he hears Jim’s muffled voice telling him to come in.  
  
The office is brightly lit, sunlight streaming in from the ceiling to floor wall of glass behind the mahogany desk, and Leonard wonders distantly if it was designed to make visitors squint at the man behind the desk. The sunshine catches the edges of Jim’s silhouette, creating an almost halo of gold, and it does nothing to abate the sudden stutter of Leonard’s heart.  
  
“Hey, Bones,” Jim greets cheerfully, and Leonard blinks hard at the old medical school nickname he thought he left behind long ago.

"Where d’you hear that one?" he asks, carefully edging the door closed behind him.

"I’ve been asking around." Jim leans forward and props his forearms on the edge of his desk. His shirtsleeves are rolled up haphazardly to his elbows, glasses sitting a little crookedly on his face, and all in all, he looks years younger than he did this morning. "Sit down, man, I don’t bite."

 _Yes you do,_ Leonard thinks, but he sits anyway.

Jim studies him for a long moment, until Leonard starts to feel antsy, and then he smiles and Leonard feels even worse. “You’re nervous.”

"Of course I am," Leonard snaps, and Jim starts laughing. "It’s not funny."

"The look on your face," Jim wheezes. "This morning, oh God, I thought you were going to have a heart attack."

"Shut up," Leonard says, but now he’s laughing too, the son of a bitch. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Dunno." Jim sobers up a little. "Look, Bones, I swear I didn’t know who you were. And clearly, neither did you."

"Clearly," Leonard echoes, trying to focus on Jim’s face, but his eyes keep sliding off like the man’s too bright to look at. Whoever designed this room is a real bastard.

"But I’m not going to lie." Jim leans back his chair, props his foot up on his desk as casually as if they’re two friends watching a game on a dinky couch rather than the director of a hospital and his mortified employee in an office larger than Leonard’s living room. "I had fun last night."

Leonard sighs, relaxing a little now that it seems like he’s not going to be tossed out the hospital on his still sore ass, and he returns Jim’s wry smile. “You’ve got a big dick,” he says accusingly, and Jim snorts delightedly.

"Are you off for the night?" Jim asks, and Leonard hates himself for glancing down at Jim’s lap, at the way the fabric of his dark slacks stretches across his- shit, no, this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. He snaps his eyes back up to Jim’s face.

"Yeah, suppose so."

Jim rubs at his jaw absently, and Leonard finally notices the edge of a red mark on the side of his neck, barely peeking out from above his collar. His stomach flip flops at the sight, and he remembers placing his mouth on that exact spot, sucking and licking to match the other marks Jim’s leaving on his neck and shoulders.

"I know a good bar," Jim says. "Just a couple of blocks away. It’s quiet, y’know, not really the scene last night, but I don’t know, if you want." Jim’s rambling, Leonard realizes, and he shouldn’t find that adorable, but fuck him, he does.

"All right," he hears himself saying, and thus he seals his fate.


	3. Chapter 3

Leonard didn’t intend to sleep with Jim again.

He realizes this only when it’s two orgasms too late, lying awake in what he finally notices is the same damn hotel room from last night, Jim wrapped around him like an overheated, quietly snoring blanket with his head tucked beneath Leonard’s chin.

 _Oh hell_ , he thinks, panicking slightly now, and he tries to remember where exactly everything went so wrong.

He recalls walking together with Jim down to the bar, and it’s a quiet place like he promised, a dark jazz lounge beneath a flickering neon planet and a sign proclaiming it to be Vulcan.

"Ever been here?" Jim asks, holding the door open for him. It’s a subtle touch that gives Leonard some pause, and he tries to decide as he likes it even as he shakes his head and passes through the door.

"I know the owner," Jim continues blithely, stepping up beside Leonard and taking his arm as casually as a plus one at an evening gala. His hand rests on the inside of Leonard’s elbow, holding on just tightly enough to make himself known, and Leonard feels his resistance start to crumble at the corners. "He’s a bit of an ass, really, but it’s cute."

When Leonard meets said bar owner, he finds it difficult to find what aspect of the stoic man Jim considers cute, but to each their own, he thinks dubiously.

"Evening, Spock," Jim says cheerfully, tugging Leonard over to the bar, and the sharply eyebrowed man behind the counter looks down at them archly.

"Mr. Kirk," he says, then turns dark eyes on Leonard. "And….?"

"Dr. McCoy," Leonard says, awkwardly extracting his arm from Jim’s grip and offering his hand. Spock doesn’t shake it.

"Two of the special, if you please, Mr. Spock," Jim says, taking Leonard’s suspended hand and folding their fingers together before dropping down to swing between them, like two kids holding hands on a playground.

"He doesn’t do handshakes," Jim says apologetically in Leonard’s ear, as soon as Spock turns around to mix their drinks, and Leonard tenses at the feathery brush of Jim’s lips against his skin.

They’re still holding hands.

"You’re a strange one," Leonard mutters, and Jim chuckles.

"Could say the same for you," he says, popping a peanut in his mouth. Leonard hears the muffled crunch, and he flushes when he remembers the taste of the kisses from last night, beer and peanuts and sugar clinging to the edges of Jim’s mouth.

"Yeah? How so?"

Jim glances at him, a bit of undisguised mirth in his eyes. “You were ready to piss your pants this morning, and here you are anyway. You’re a brave man, doc.”

Leonard feels the heat in his face intensify, and he hopes that the dim lighting covers it. Jesus, did he have to say it like _that_? ‘Doc’ sounds like something much dirtier coming from his mouth. “You could call it that,” he says, fumbling to get a grasp on the conversation. “It’s probably stupidity more than anything else, though.”

"Well." Jim drops his hand, only to put his on Leonard’s knee instead. "That makes the two of us."

 _This is a bad idea_ , Leonard remembers thinking at that point, but then the drinks come, and whatever Spock mixed up, it gives him a buzz of liquid recklessness and he leans closer and closer to Jim, the hand on his knee burning through the fabric of his pants.

"You’re drunk, Bones," Jim murmurs at some point, his hand having moved higher up on Leonard’s thigh, and Leonard blinks at him in surprise.

"I’m not," he says, and he puts his hand on top of Jim’s. He feels Jim’s hand shift, turning so that their palms slide together, and Leonard brazenly thinks, _to hell with it all._

He remembers the cab ride this time, his heart beating in anticipation and nervousness and Jim looking composed the entire time, whistling under his breath as he slides his thumb up and down Leonard’s inseam.

"I’m sorry I left you this morning," Jim says absently, and Leonard glances at him. "I thought I’d let you sleep in."

Leonard snorts. “Next time, don’t.” It’s too late to take the words back once they’re out, and the notion of there being a ‘next time’ floats uncertainly in the air.

"I’ll remember that," Jim finally says, digging his thumb against a certain spot on Leonard’s thigh, and Leonard makes a small sound before he can stop himself.

The gleam in Jim’s eyes as they exit the cab is both promising and terrifying.

He pushes up against Leonard while Leonard’s still fumbling with the room key, the annoying red light refusing to go green, and wraps his arms around Leonard’s waist, burying his face against the back of his shoulder.

"Hey," Leonard says with a breathless chuckle, and he grunts when Jim knocks him forward against the door, crushing his hand between his stomach and the door latch. "Oi, what’s the-"

"Bones," Jim whispers, his breath shuddering hot and fast against the back of Leonard’s neck, and Leonard shivers violently.

"Shit," he mutters, blood pounding in his ears, and he makes another clumsy pass with the card. The door beeps open- _finally_ \- and they topple through, Jim kicking the door shut behind them.

The sun’s still up, just barely lingering over the skyline, but Leonard hardly cares when Jim’s mouth is on his throat, his jaw, tugging at his belt loops to bring him closer as they make an ungainly shuffle towards the bed.

Jim’s laughing when they both trip and fall onto the mattress, rolling on top of Leonard before they’ve even stopped bouncing. He presses a fierce kiss against Leonard’s mouth, sucking and biting lightly at his lips before pulling away with a satisfied pop. “Be back in a sec,” he whispers, and Leonard stares at him dazedly as Jim pushes off the bed and disappears into the bathroom.

He lies there for a second, listening to Jim clatter around, before raising his hands to his shirt, remembering the way Jim stripped him last night as he undoes the buttons automatically.

A muffled curse sounds from the bathroom, and Leonard pauses. “You all right in there?”

"Yeah, yeah-" The door bursts open and Jim leans against the doorway, completely naked and grinning widely. "I see you got started without me." He tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed and follows suit.

"Mm." Leonard’s breath hitches when Jim kneels down beside him, grabbing hold of Leonard’s waistband. "Better catch up."

Jim smirks, and then he lowers his head, fitting his mouth over the straining bulge beneath Leonard’s pants, and Leonard nearly bucks them both off the bed.

"Hold still," Jim commands, wiggling so that he’s lying between Leonard’s legs, and he pins Leonard’s thighs down to the bed with his forearms, tracing the outline of Leonard’s cock with the tip of his tongue.

"Jesus," Leonard pants, struggling to push himself up on his elbows so he can watch Jim work him over.

Jim’s tongue is hot, wet, lapping over his erection until the clear shape of his cock stands out against the material of his slacks, damp at the tip from more than saliva. Leonard finds himself grabbing the back of Jim’s head with one hand, working his fingers into Jim’s hair and just holding on, riding out the motions of his head as Jim groans and tugs at the zipper with his teeth.

"Fuck, Bones," he mutters, and Leonard barely holds back a moan when his cock springs free into the air. Jim presses him down, bending his head and swallowing him down in one go.

"Jim," Leonard groans, his nails scratching against Jim’s scalp, and Jim hums around him, his hand shifting off Leonard’s left thigh to knuckle at the sensitive flesh beneath his balls.

It takes him an embarrassing thirty seconds to come straight down Jim’s throat, and he flails and curses as Jim milks him dry, keeping his cock in his mouth until it passes the painfully ecstatic threshold and valiantly tries to harden again.

And then Jim sits up, licking up a stray drop of Leonard’s come from the corner of his mouth, and reaches for the lube. He’s already wearing a condom, the presumptuous bastard, Leonard notices distractedly, but the insult is even halfhearted in his mind and he braces himself when Jim nudges his legs farther apart.

"You’re gorgeous," he says, and Leonard’s suddenly vividly conscious of the sight he must make, sprawled out and boneless on the sweat-damp sheets with his cock leaking shamelessly again. "Christ, Bones."

"Shut up," Leonard growls, reaching up and grabbing Jim’s wrist, "and fuck me."

And Jim does.

He works Leonard open patiently with his fingers, watches with unabashed delight as Leonard swears and moans and tosses his head on the pillows, trying to thrust back even as Jim thrusts in.

"Get on with it-"

"Not yet," Jim murmurs, some kind of inexplicable fascination in his voice, and he presses against Leonard’s inner walls until Leonard feels like he’s going to cry from the sheer frustration of it all.

"Jim," he growls, and he clenches down as tightly as he can, watches Jim’s pupils blow wide and black as he struggles to remain in control.

It’s a swift battle with an inevitable conclusion, and Leonard grunts triumphantly when Jim’s fingers withdraw, the head of his cock pressing in against his swollen rim.

A moment of sharp pressure, and then Jim’s stretching him open, easing in slowly with a long, appreciative hiss.

"You’re fucking huge," Leonard gasps, jerking when Jim grazes against his prostate and keeps going. "Fuck, Jim, c’mon. Faster."

"Relax and I will," Jim wheezes, his eyes bright in his flushed face as he grips Leonard tight and thrusts into him harder.

Leonard tries to grab onto something, anything to keep him grounded as Jim snaps his hips and bends down to lick the sweat from Leonard’s collarbones, and he ends up clutching at the headboard, not caring when it knocks back against the wall and ends up bruising his fingers.

Then Jim pulls out, leaving Leonard tragically empty and confused. He blinks his eyes open, tries to focus as he reaches for Jim instinctively.

"What-"

"Don’t come yet," Jim warns, gripping the base of Leonard’s cock to keep him from doing just that. He’s sliding something on him, Leonard realizes fuzzily, a condom, and then Jim’s straddling Leonard’s hips, kneeling down and-

"Fuuuck," Leonard moans, his eyes going wide with shock when he feels Jim easing down on him. It’s an easy slide, and he suddenly remembers Jim ducking into the bathroom. The image of him prepping himself, stretching himself open on his fingers just to do this- "Jim, shit, I can’t-"

He needs to come, needs to come _now_ , and Jim shakes his head, his eyes bright and his mouth swollen and panting as he fucks himself on Leonard’s cock, bracing himself with one hand against Leonard’s throat. The half pressure, just enough to make him conscious of every breath, only makes everything that much better and that much more excruciating.

"Jim," Leonard chokes out again, and the pleasure is spiraling high and tight within him. He’s bursting at the seams, and Jim fills him again and again.

"Bones," he murmurs, over and over again, and he bends to press the words against Leonard’s mouth. Both of them are too far gone to make much sense of the kiss, but Leonard tries anyway, tries to reach up and drag Jim closer, but all he can do is go where Jim takes him.

Jim takes him to the fucking stars and back again, and when Leonard falls back into his body, Jim’s still flexing and clenching around him, fucking into his own fist and making quiet whimpering sounds as his come drips onto Leonard’s stomach.

"Fucking hell, doc," he groans, as he collapses on his side beside Leonard, and Leonard grunts feebly in agreement.

"Need t’shower," he mutters, feeling the uncomfortable itch of drying sweat and come on his skin, but Jim grumbles and rolls closer, draping himself carelessly across Leonard’s body.

"Later," he says against the side of Leonard’s neck, his voice a hoarse rumble that vibrates through both their bodies, and he’s asleep in seconds.

Leonard lies awake for a long time after, contemplating the ceiling and the fact that somehow, he’s ended up right in the position where he never wanted to be again.

The terrible thing, really, is that he doesn’t regret a single thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> interlude

Jim’s true to his word the next morning and wakes Leonard up promptly at 7:00 a.m.

"I lied," Leonard groans, pulling a pillow over his head. "Don’t ever wake me up."

"C’mon, up and at ‘em," Jim says brightly. He’s a _morning_ person, Leonard realizes with burgeoning horror. Of all the-

"We can share the shower."

Leonard hesitates halfway through his attempt to smother himself with his pillow, and peeks out warily with one eye. “What?”

"It’s very green," Jim informs him. "Saving water and all that." Then he grins, and there’s nothing environmentally friendly about that smile at all. "So?"

It’s too early to put up a fight, and so Leonard reluctantly rolls out of bed, wincing at the inevitable ache when he stands. “Christ,” he grumbles, and limps his way around the bed. Jim has the audacity to pat him on the ass when he passes, and Leonard growls wordlessly at him as he steps into the bathtub.

The water’s cold when it first hits his skin, and he shivers reflexively, but then Jim’s stepping in behind him, yanking the curtain shut and pulling Leonard in with an arm around his waist.

"Good morning," he murmurs, and Leonard sighs, leans back against him without thinking.

The water’s warmer now, but Jim’s still hotter, his hands circling slowly over Leonard’s abdomen. Leonard exhales raggedly, belated swirls of pleasure tugging at his gut, and he turns abruptly, tangling his fingers in Jim’s damp hair and pulling him into a rough kiss.

The kiss turns soft and lazy almost immediately, Jim’s tongue flicking out to lap at Leonard’s lower lip before pulling it gently into his mouth, and Leonard whimpers before he can stop himself. Jim spins them around again, pressing Leonard’s shoulders against the cold wall, and knocking over the complimentary bottles of shampoo and body wash.

"Shit," Leonard says, briefly distracted by the clatter of plastic around their feet, and Jim takes the opportunity to drop to his knees. The shower’s too cramped for much more maneuvering, but Jim nudges at Leonard’s knee, brings his foot up to rest on the side of the tub, and he shuffles forward to nuzzle at Leonard’s now intensely interested dick.

Leonard thinks he makes some sort of noise, because Jim glances up at him, his eyes crinkling in amusement and his eyelashes wet and clinging together. “Jim,” Leonard says hoarsely, disbelievingly, and Jim kisses his hip before sucking him into his mouth.

Leonard’s legs nearly give out right then and there, and he fumbles for purchase on the shower wall, his other hand settling helplessly on Jim’s head. Jim hums encouragingly at that, his hands sliding around the back of Leonard’s thighs and pulling him forward- and Jesus, he’s fucking his own mouth with Leonard’s cock and it’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever seen.

Two seconds later and Leonard’s cursing incoherently, trying desperately to come as Jim does everything he can to shove him over the edge. “You fucker,” Leonard grunts, when Jim does something particularly wicked with his tongue, but there’s no real heat in his voice and Jim chuckles around him before clamping his lips tight around the head of Leonard’s cock and sucking hard.

Leonard groans loud enough that he’s sure it travels through the neighboring walls, then nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels Jim’s fingers probing at his balls and then behind, circling his still sore hole.

"Fuck," he gasps, struggling to stay standing when he feels a fingertip pressing against him, not entering, but circling intentionally around the tight muscle. " _Fuck_ ,” he says again, when the fingertip presses inside, and he comes so hard that his knees do buckle.

Jim holds him up through the aftershocks, braces him against the wall while he methodically swallows every last drop. Leonard grunts feebly when Jim’s tongue drags up his softening length, causing a sting of sharp, double-edged pleasure.

"You’re not good for me," Leonard decides, his voice cracking before he clears his throat, and Jim stands, his lips swollen and red and smiling as he chuckles and pats Leonard back into shape.

"I’m the best thing that’s happened to you." It’s said in jest, Leonard knows, but his heart stumbles anyway when Jim leans in and kisses him. He can still barely taste traces of himself on Jim’s tongue, and he chases the taste until it’s gone and all that’s left is the feel of Jim’s skin against his, slick and wet and warm.

"You’re still-" Leonard starts, feeling an insistent nudge against his hip, and Jim pulls back with a regretful sigh, shaking his head.

"Nah, we’ll be late as it is," he says, with a guilty pull to the corner of his mouth. "Wanted to make you come first before we left, though."

It’s such a devastatingly sweet notion that Leonard’s left dazed and confused, and he lets himself be pulled out of the shower and bundled up in a fluffy towel.

"But still," he argues as Jim plops another towel on his head and starts drying his hair briskly. "I-"

"You can make it up to me next time," Jim says, clearly trying to stifle his laughter, and Leonard glares at him instinctively from under the damp mess Jim’s made of his hair.

Then Jim’s words catch up to him and he wrestles with a muddle of delight and wariness all at once.

_He’s still my boss-_

_We’ve already fucked, s’not like avoiding each other’s gonna change that.  
_

_There’s a big difference between avoiding and chasing after repeat performances._

_Been there, done that._

"I’ll take you up on that," is all Leonard says.


	5. Chapter 5

"He’s been crying all day, I don’t know what else to do," the distraught mother keeps saying, and Leonard blinks at her distractedly, trying to catch up on the conversation. Then the kid starts to howl again and Leonard wants to die.

Dammit, he’s been losing his concentration on and off the entire day, and it’s all Jim’s fault. How the hell’s he expected to sit through clinic hour after clinic hour after a blowjob like _that_?

The kid hasn’t stopped crying yet and Leonard heaves an aggrieved sigh. “Shut up, kid,” he says, snapping on a pair of gloves and reaching for a pair of tweezers, and both kid and parent stare at him in shock.

"I’ve got a daughter," Leonard continued conversationally, tipping up the kid’s wet chin up with one finger and peering into his face. "When she was three, about your boy’s age, she had this nasty habit- ah, there."

One messy extraction later, they’re staring at a tiny, snotty fire truck lying on a tissue, the kid still hiccuping mournfully.

“ _Kevin_ ,” the mother says disbelievingly, and Leonard leaves them to it.

He’s signing off on the last patient’s forms when his pager beeps rapidly, and he pulls it out from his pocket to blink warily at the screen.

He’s been summoned to the goddamn director’s office.

Leonard stands there for a long moment, staring down at the pager in conflict. To go, he decides, would be the worst decision he’s ever made, short of sleeping with Jim in the first place. To not go, he thinks guiltily a second later, would be torture, wondering why Jim called him in the first place.

He hesitates so long that one of the passing nurses prods at him cautiously, and then he curses so loudly that she jumps and three other nurses raise their heads reproachfully.

The thing is, he’s already made up his mind from the second he looked at the pager.

………………..

Jim looks up when he hears the single knock, short and sharp and to the point, and he grins.

"Come on in," he says, and leans back in his chair in anticipation.

Bones steps through, looking as disgruntled as Jim hoped, and closes the door behind him. “This isn’t the place,” he says, and Jim raises an eyebrow.

"I haven’t said anything yet."

"You don’t need to," Bones says, rolling his eyes. He approaches the desk and Jim tries and fails to keep from licking his lips appreciatively at the man’s still careful gait, at the memories of what they did the night before to put that slight limp there.

"Maybe I just wanted to talk," Jim says, drawing the point out longer because he can, and to his surprise, Bones tilts his head to one side and considers him thoughtfully.

"All right," he says, and sits down in the chair in front of Jim’s desk. "Let’s talk."

Jim’s stymied. This isn’t going according to plan.

"I, ah."

Bones smirks at him knowingly and leans forward, props his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. “Tongue-tied now, are you?”

Jim swallows and forces a relaxed smile. “Am I ever?” He feels a stab of satisfaction at the spot of color that brings to Bones’ cheeks. “Come on, tell the truth. You were bored stiff.”

Bones scowls at him irritably enough for Jim to sense that he’s struck true. “Yeah? What d’you know about it, then?”

"Because I’ve been thinking about you all morning." He lets his voice deepen, soften, watches the way Bones’ eyes glaze over a little before he shakes himself out of it.

"You bastard," Bones tells him.

Jim’s never been more happy to be insulted so many times by the same person. He grins like a kid when Bones rises out of his chair and circles around his desk, tips his face back expectantly when Bones spins him around and braces his hand against the headrest beside Jim’s ear.

Jim makes an exaggerated kissing sound and watches Bones’ scowl dissipate in reluctant amusement.

"Juvenile," Bones murmurs, but the way he next kisses Jim suggests anything but. He lowers himself down to straddle Jim’s lap, resting his knees on the leather seat beside Jim’s thighs and tugging Jim’s head back by his hair.

Jim moans into the kiss, his fingers digging into the armrests, and Bones echoes the sound, his hands dragging up Jim’s torso to fumble at his tie-

There’s a knock at the door, and Jim jerks so hard that he knocks his head against Bones. They both reel back in pain and confusion, and Bones throws a wild glare towards the door. “What the hell?” he demands in a rough whisper, and Jim slaps his forehead.

"Hell, it’s my 1:00." The last thing he needs is a potential donor catching him with-

"Director Kirk?" a muffled voice calls, and before Jim can think, Bones is cursing and cramming himself into the space beneath Jim’s desk, reaching out and dragging Jim’s chair back into place.

The door opens just as Jim’s frantically straightening his tie, and he puts on his best winning smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Simmons.”

She’s a mousy looking woman, quiet, but she knows what she’s talking about, and Jim almost forgets about the man crouched between his knees until he feels something probing at his inseam. He twitches involuntarily and whacks his leg on the bottom of the desk, incurring what sounds suspiciously like a muted snort from below.

Ms. Simmons pauses, her brow furrowed. “Did you hear-“

"Sorry about that," Jim says loudly, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his desk to demonstrate his interest. "Please, continue."

Bones is definitely doing something down there, and Jim blinks rapidly when he feels his zipper being eased down, a hand wriggling in and releasing his half hard erection.

_Oh fuck._

He’s proud that his smile only wavers slightly when a hot, wet mouth closes around the head of his cock. His fingernails dig into his palms and he tries to concentrate on the slight sting instead of Bones’ lips wrapped around his cock, his hand curled tightly around the base to make up for what his mouth can’t reach in this position. 

The man was born for this, he swears, trying to remember how to breathe when Bones’ tongue runs lightly up the underside of his dick, pausing to press against the slit before sliding down again, his lips meeting his knuckles.

A strangled noise escapes Jim’s throat, and he tries to cover it with a cough when the donor hesitates and looks at him curiously.

"I’m sorry, but are you feeling well, sir? You look-"

"I’m fine," Jim wheezes. "Fine." He swears he feels Bones chuckle around him, and it’s all he can to keep himself coming right then and there.

Twenty long, tortuous minutes, Bones keeps him on the edge. Close enough to taste the pleasure and far enough to be infernally frustrating. Jim’s barely listening to Simmons anymore, his teeth gritted behind his faltering smile as Bones mouths at him carefully, teasingly, cruel in his gentleness.

"Thank you, Ms. Simmons," Jim says hastily, when she pauses to take a breath, and she blinks at him puzzledly.

"I-"

"I’ll be dropping you a call some time in the next few days," Jim carries on. "Leave your number with my secretary, she’ll be happy to-" he stutters briefly when Bones sucks at him, "-to take it."

Ms. SImmons looks at him strangely, but she nods and leaves, and Jim looses a painful groan as soon as the door clicks shut behind her, slouching down and finally looking beneath the desk.

Bones’ face is red from the tight confines, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes when he glances up at Jim, his mouth still on Jim’s cock.

"Fuck," Jim breathes, sensation washing over him now that he’s allowing himself the pleasure, and he places a shaking hand on the back of Bones’ head, guiding him back into a steady pace. "Christ, Bones, you’re so fucking hot."

Bones hums around him and Jim raises his other hand to his mouth, bites down on his knuckles to keep from freaking out his secretary outside.

He bucks slightly when Bones whimpers and sucks him harder. One flick of those hazel eyes, the color of the earth and more piercing than any Jim’s ever seen, and he comes with a harsh exhale, his fingers digging into Bones’ scalp and his cock pulsing in the wet heat of Bones’ mouth.

He feels Bones swallow and suppresses a violent shudder, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck,” he murmurs again, drawing the word out in a long sigh, and he opens his eyes again when he hears a soft grunt and the sound of skin on skin.

Bones is hunched in on himself, his head bent and hard breaths shaking his shoulders as he jerks himself off in rough strokes.

Jim watches, too fascinated and fucked-out to move, and Bones comes into his fist with a low moan, his hips twitching against his hand as he wrings himself through the aftershocks.

There’s a stray drop of come on Bones’ lip, and Jim leans forward, bends down and tilts Bones’ face up to lick it off. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” he whispers regretfully, and Bones shrugs, shuffling out from under the desk and rolling his shoulders stiffly.

"Just returning the favor." He looks down at Jim’s cock, then reaches out to tuck it back into place. Jim’s breath hitches at the electric brush of Bones’ fingers, and Bones is smiling wryly when he stands and stretches out his legs, his knees popping.

"Bones," Jim hears himself say, and then he stops. What does he want? He knew vaguely in the back of his mind when this all started that it couldn’t be anything more than this. A few fumbles in the dark, a blowjob in the office after hours…..

One look in Leonard McCoy’s eyes, and all he wants is more.

"Jim?" Bones asks, his eyebrows drawing together in concern, and Jim shakes his head.

He’s smiling again when he meets Bones’ eyes. “Nothing.”


	6. Chapter 6

Over time, they come to an unspoken arrangement that Leonard feels he ought to be concerned about, at least a little. Jim’s still his boss, no matter how many time they try to fuck that knowledge away, and though there’s no official rule against fraternization, society’s got plenty to say on the subject matter.

Leonard’s an up-and-coming professional in his field, and Jim’s not exactly in the steadiest position himself, still trying to fit in the impressively large shoes of Christopher Pike. The truth is, neither of them can risk this kind of potential disaster right now. Possibly not ever.

Jim doesn’t seem to care, judging by the heat of his kisses, the eager touches of his hands, his mouth, the brightness in his eyes whenever Leonard comes with his name on his lips. It’d be easy to blame it on him, pin it all on Jim’s brazenness, his fire, the gravity of his charisma that tugs planets and galaxies and all the Leonard McCoys of the universe into ecstatic oblivion. But Leonard’s kisses are no less passionate, he shows up at Jim’s uptown flat as many times as Jim pushes him against the wall of his own apartment, and it goes on for days, weeks.

It’s the second month of their…..Leonard doesn’t suppose he can call it a relationship, really…….their _fling_ when Jim shows up at his front door with a six-pack, grinning cheerfully in a pair of faded sweats and rock band of the week t-shirt.

"Game’s on tonight," is the only explanation Leonard gets, before Jim’s busily making himself at home in the tiny living room.

Leonard shakes his head, smiles to himself, and closes the door.

He’s coming back from the kitchen with a bottle opener when he sees Jim standing at the bookshelf, head bent over something in his hand. “What’s up?”

"Who’s this?" Jim asks, his voice odd, and Leonard frowns distractedly.

"Hmm?"

Jim turns, and Leonard’s eyes fall on the picture frame in his hand. _Ah_.

He sets the bottle opener down on the coffee table, sits down on the couch and watches Jim guardedly. “That’s my daughter.” He braces himself for the shift in expressions, the inevitable change from casual interest to awkward distance. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before from the few relationships he’s dallied in since the divorce. Nobody wants a man with eight-year-old baggage, at least no one he’s met yet.

"Your daughter, huh?" Jim looks back down at the picture, his head tilted in consideration. It’s a nice one of Jo, one of her yearbook photos that Joce sends along with holiday albums every six months or so. "She’s got your eyes."

Leonard’s chest tightens and he swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “You think?”

"Sure." Jim sits down next to him, his leg and shoulder pressed up close against Leonard’s, and tilts the photo towards him. "You’re obviously her daddy."

Leonard huffs softly, takes the picture from Jim and rubs his thumb against the frame reflexively. “Thanks.” He doesn’t know why he’s thanking Jim, doesn’t think the man’s said anything to be grateful for, but he supposes that it’s the fact that Jim said anything at all, that he didn’t walk out on the spot.

"I see her every few months," he finds himself saying. "She lives with her mama in Georgia- it’s too far for weekends."

Jim’s left hand finds his, squeezing his palm over his thigh, and it’s the sweetest damn thing he’s ever done. Leonard blinks hard, then exhales shakily. “Sorry,” he mutters, dropping his head onto Jim’s shoulder.

"For what?" Jim’s right arm slides around his shoulders, plays with Leonard’s hair where it’s gotten a little too long behind his ears. "I’m glad you told me."

"Dunno why I did," Leonard mumbles. He feels Jim’s hand still, before sliding down to rest on the side of Leonard’s neck, tipping his chin up.

"Still," Jim says, his eyes fixed on Leonard’s and his lips stirring just inches away. "I’m glad you did." Jim kisses him, soft and warm. "What’s her name?"

"Tell you later." Leonard’s breath hitches when Jim’s hand tugs gently at his hair, and he shuffles sideways impatiently, tugging Jim down on top of him. The armrest of the couch digs between his shoulder blades, but the discomfort goes forgotten when Jim’s kisses melt into something hotter, sharper, his weight heavy on Leonard as he settles between Leonard’s spread knees.

It’s amazing, how quickly and easily they fall together now, bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces made to never be apart, and Leonard tilts his head back obligingly when Jim mouths his way down his throat, pausing only to pull Leonard’s shirt over his head before returning to his task.

"Is it life-affirming sex time again?" Leonard asks the ceiling, not without some measure of amusement. The last they’ve had what Jim declared was life-affirming sex, it was after the pizza came three whole minutes early.

"Yeah," Jim agrees fervently, dragging his mouth back up to Leonard’s. They lose themselves in each other for a few minutes, just hot breath and tongues and lips, and Leonard’s rock hard by the end of it.

"We’re overdressed," he points out, and Jim nearly falls off the couch in his eagerness to fix that particular problem. When the last article of clothing has been tossed some place irrelevant, Leonard reaches under the couch cushion, pulls out the supplies he’s been keeping there since the Kitchen Fiasco.

He’s got several more stashes tucked away in various locations after that incident, knows Jim’s done the same all over his apartment. There’s a frightening sense of normalcy in the thought, and so he puts it out of his mind and distracts himself by watching Jim slick up his fingers.

"Open up," Jim says, with an exaggerated leer that’s somewhat ruined by his crinkling eyes, and Leonard rolls his eyes before raising his left leg, hooking it over the back of the couch and letting his other knee fall to the side.

"This all right?" he murmurs, wrapping a hand loosely around his own cock and giving it a lazy stroke. He hears Jim choke a little and smirks until he feels Jim’s finger circling his entrance, teasing at the back of his balls and making a slippery mess of everything.

These days, Leonard doesn’t need much more preparation beyond a couple of fingers, but Jim seems to like doing it, likes taking the time to reduce Leonard to a writhing mess. Once, Jim kept him on edge like this for half an hour, and Leonard came so hard that he didn’t come to until twenty minutes later, Jim snoring beneath his arm.

Leonard’s too impatient for that now, wants Jim in him  _yesterday_ , and he wraps his legs around Jim’s waist, tightening his knees and pushing up with one hand, and then Jim’s toppling over on his back with Leonard on top of him.

"Whoa," Jim huffs, then says it again with more feeling when Leonard grabs his cock and lines himself up. " _Whoa_.”

Jim’s unabashedly loud when Leonard sinks down on him, moaning loud enough to startle Leonard’s neighbors, and Leonard shuts him up in the only way he knows how. Jim bites down on his lip, probably not even intending to, and Leonard growls exasperatedly, reaching down to grip Jim’s jaw with one hand and hold him still. “Jesus, kid. Quiet down.”

"Bones," Jim chokes out. He jerks his head, manages to suck Leonard’s thumb into his mouth, and Leonard makes a noise in the back of his throat when Jim thrusts up into him unsteadily. "Bones, fuuuck." Jim slurs the words around Leonard’s ’ thumb, pulls off briefly to gasp for air, his hands tightening on Leonard’s hips as he thrusts again. "Ride me, c’mon."

Leonard’s gut clenches with a spike of unexpected pleasure at the command, and he leans forward, bracing himself on Jim’s shoulders as he rises onto his knees and slams back down again, angling the movement that Jim’s cock presses against his prostate. This time, they both groan, and Leonard bites down on his lower lip as he begins riding Jim in earnest.

Jim doesn’t make it easy, bucking and sweating and dragging his hands up over Leonard’s chest as he snaps his hips faster, his cock bouncing against his stomach in frustrating intervals. It’s not enough, he wants more, and he reaches down between them with one hand.

"No," Jim says, and he knocks Leonard’s hand aside. "Let me."

Leonard’s more than okay with this, and he tells Jim as much without so many words, choosing to kiss Jim instead. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, neither of them composed enough to put much finesse into it, and he ends up panting against the side of Jim’s neck, fucking himself desperately and relishing the burning stretch of it.

Jesus, he’s going to come, if not from Jim’s dick, then the hand relentlessly jacking him off, lingering on the spots that drive Leonard crazy. It gives him a funny feeling, knowing that Jim knows him this well, knowing himself that Jim’s ticklish on his right side and his left side is just one big erogenous zone, that he likes to be a little rough during sex and excessive cuddling afterwards, that he likes to give blowjobs just as much as he likes receiving it, his favorite color, favorite foods….

"Fuck," Leonard says, and he tenses, trying to hold back his impending orgasm. "Fuck, Jim, fuck, I’m gonna-"

"Yeah," Jim says, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, Bones, come on. Come for me, that’s right-"

"Jim," Leonard manages again before he’s coming. He’s coming, and coming, and he muffles his strained cry against Jim’s shoulder, feels Jim stiffen and thrust up into him one last time as he follows Leonard.

"Fuck, Bones," Jim says weakly, a few seconds and heaving breaths later. "I think you broke me."

Leonard snorts ungracefully, rolls himself off with difficulty and squeezes into the narrow gap between Jim’s side and the edge of the couch. An arm wraps around his waist, keeps him from rolling off onto the floor, and he sighs when Jim nuzzles against his sweaty skin. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.”

He lets Jim cuddle him for a couple of minutes, dozing off a little himself as he combs his fingers distractedly through Jim’s damp hair. He likes this, he realizes suddenly, and he can’t tell whether the skip in his heartrate is due to anxiety or anticipation. He likes this, likes Jim, maybe more than he should, and if he doesn’t stop himself here, he’s likely to go the whole nine yards and fall head over heels. _  
_

 _Don’t do this to yourself, McCoy. Not again_. He lost more than a wife the last time he fell in love, and he’s still paying the cost now with every missed birthday and Christmas.

Jim snuffles drowsily against his shoulder and Leonard blinks down at him in helpless surrender.

"All right, up," he says, and nudges at Jim’s ribs. The ticklish side. "Shower."

"Nooo," Jim complains, cracking one brilliant eye open. "Bones."

"Yes." Leonard stands with a low groan and stretches, eyeing the length of Jim’s body with mingled appreciation and exasperation. "Best get that off before you lose circulation," he says, pointing at the condom still on Jim’s cock, and Jim looks down at it like he’s forgotten already.

"Oh, right." Jim sits up, his hair sticking up wildly on one side where Leonard’s been messing with it, and smiles fuzzily up at Leonard. "Thanks."

It’s such a strange thing to thank him for that it catches Leonard completely off guard, and he laughs until he cries and tries not to think about the fact that Jim hasn’t said “I love you,” yet, either.


	7. Chapter 7

Leonard wakes one morning and twitches, grumbling at the feeling of Jim’s hands on his ass. “Jim, what the hell?”

"Shh," Jim murmurs, and Leonard squirms in reluctant anticipation when he feels Jim gently spreading his cheeks. He’s still half-asleep, and judging by the weak light of dawn through Jim’s bedroom windows, he has every right to be.

"Jim-" Leonard starts again, meaning to tell Jim to get on with whatever he’s doing and let him get ten more minutes of sleep, and then he jolts abruptly awake when he feels something hard and slick and utterly foreign nudging at his entrance.

"Relax," Jim says, achieving the very opposite of what his words were intended to do, and Leonard twists around to glare over his shoulder.

The room is still mostly dark, but he can make out Jim’s silhouette kneeling beside him, his eyes gleaming. “It’s not gonna be fun unless you relax,” Jim prompts him, circling his hole again with the- the plug? Leonard can’t see much from here, but he can feel the rounded tip of the toy against his skin.

"You’re not _putting_ that thing in me. I’ve got clinic hours today.”

Jim presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder, then to the other one. “Please?”

Leonard buries his face resolutely in his pillow. “No,” he says, but he’s already weakening between Jim’s pleading kisses and the feel of the toy teasing between his legs. Shit, could he have that in him all day? Part of him balks at the idea of sitting on a stool with the thing keeping him stretched and open, but the rest of him is inexplicably excited by the thought.

"Fine," he says, before he can change his mind, and Jim smiles against his shoulder blade.

"You’ll love it," Jim assures him, and Leonard bites back a moan when Jim’s slippery fingers press against his entrance. He’s still loose from last night and Jim’s fingers slide in easily. Sometimes Leonard finds himself wondering what it’d be like to stop using condoms, to feel Jim against him without the thin barrier, to feel his come ooze out of his body with every teasing nudge of Jim’s fingers-

He hisses when the tip of the toy enters, unable to keep from squirming when Jim gives it a twist to push it in further. He can feel lube dripping over the back of his thighs, coating his balls and cock and Christ, he’s getting hard already and the thing’s not even in yet.

Another small push, a blunt pressure, and the toy slides in. Leonard clenches down around it instinctively, groaning as his inner walls flex around the unyielding object, and he shudders when Jim gives the base an experimental flick.

"You think you can leave that in all day?" Jim muses, and Leonard takes a few deep breaths, tries to get himself under control.

"Yeah," he says forcefully, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The toy digs deeper into him and he surreptitiously presses the heel of his palm against his dick, trying to get his erection to subside. This is going to be hard enough- pun completely intended- without his body making it even more difficult. "I can."

Jim kisses him enthusiastically, tangling his fingers in Leonard’s hair and pulling him close before disengaging with a loud smack of his lips. “That’s my Bones,” he says fondly, then hops out of bed. “I’ll see you at work.”

They’ve taken to a habit of taking turns getting to work first, if only to avoid Nyota’s all-seeing eye. She’s still the only one who knows, having interrogated it out of Leonard after the second night, and after she rattled off all manners of discouraging statistics and warned him of the consequences if they were caught, she grudgingly bought him a drink and patted his head and told him that at least Jim has a great ass.

Typical of her, really, Leonard thinks, as he walks into the lobby that day. The plug sits solidly inside of him, less of a distraction than it is just a weird discomfort, and he’s starting to think that a few hours might not be so bad.

And then the buzzing starts, and Leonard realizes he’s in a special form of hell.

It starts subtly, just enough for him to shift in surprise on his chair, but then it quickly becomes apparent that the plug’s a goddamn vibrator and Leonard considers texting Jim a few well-sculpted death threats. The vibrations stop and start at random, leaving him with a second of reprieve only to have him grabbing at the table again with white-knuckled fingers when the vibrator presses insistently against his prostate.

"Dr. McCoy, are you feeling all right?" one of his patients ventures to ask, and he’s overwhelmingly grateful for the lab coat covering his crotch. Fuck, he can feel himself leaking, lube and precome turning his underwear into a sticky nightmare, and it’s been all of thirty minutes.

"I’m fine," he forces out through a pained smile, then barely manages to stifle a grunt when the vibrations grow faster in frequency. _Damn it, Jim._ It’s all he can do to not grind back in his seat, trying to get more friction and alleviate the pressure in his groin, but some stoic sense of pride keeps him from locking himself in the bathroom and jerking himself off a couple of times. That and the anticipation of what Jim will do if he manages to go without touching himself all day.

His phone rings with ten minutes to lunch break, and Leonard jumps, wincing when the vibrator slides deeper into him. It’s a single text from Jim.

**See you after lunch?**

Leonard stabs the reply button vindictively and punches out an answer.

 **Kiss my** **ass**.

The response is immediate. **I can do better than that.**

Leonard stares at the screen for a long moment, curses, and slides his phone back in his pocket.

He goes to lunch, walking carefully to avoid jostling the vibrator any more than he has to. It spikes randomly while he’s ordering his sandwich, sending his voice into a higher register and a flush over his face, and he stammers out the rest of the order while the cashier squints at him curiously.

If nothing else, he thinks afterwards, gritting his teeth as another wave of vibrations shakes through him, it’s an excellent metaphor. Jim’s under his skin in so many ways, working his way through flesh and bone and burying himself in so deep that if Leonard rips him out, he might as well tear out his own heart. And when the hell did it get to the point where his heart’s involved?

He bashes his head against the cafeteria table and listens to the conversation at the next table over falter uncertainly.

He can’t let it go on, he thinks, staring down grimly at the unmistakeable bulge in his dark slacks. He’s dragged it on as long as he can, gotten more involved than he’s ever wanted, and now. Now it’s probably too late to walk away without carving out another chunk of himself.

It’s better this way, he thinks, and he stands up, leaving his uneaten sandwich.

…………………..

Jim looks pleasantly surprised when he shows up, still spinning a tiny black remote in his hand. “You’ve finished eating already?”

"No," Leonard says impatiently. "Listen-"

"How’s your ass feeling?"

"Jim, we need to talk," Leonard snaps, then stutters into incoherence when Jim casually thumbs the remote in his hand. "J-Jesus, cut that out-"

"Come on over." Jim sets the remote down on the desk, but leaves it on its current setting. He looks stunning, the bastard, the sunlight framing his silhouette perfectly, turning his hair to pure strands of gold as he smiles at Leonard.

Leonard’s torn between lust and frustration, unspoken words choked in his throat, but in the end, he finds himself stumbling stiffly over to Jim’s chair, every step a torture.

"That’s it," Jim says, his voice soothing, and Leonard can’t help but lean into his touch as Jim reaches for him, runs his hand up and down his side like he’s soothing a skittish animal. "That’s it, Bones."

"Take it out," Leonard says, his voice cracking, and Jim nods, his eyes wide and awed.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah," he says again, more determinedly, and then he stands, pressing flush against Leonard’s body. Leonard makes a broken sound when his erection slides along Jim’s hip, and he clutches at Jim’s arms to keep from falling over onto his already compromised ass.

"C’mere," Jim mutters, his fingers fumbling at Leonard’s tie, pulling it loosely impatiently and tugging his shirt out of his waistband. "C’mere, let me-" A couple of buttons go flying, but neither of them are of much of a mind to care. Leonard grunts when his shoulders hit the window behind Jim’s desk, feeling the warmth of the sunlit glass against his skin. He chances a glance over his shoulder and is briefly blinded by the dazzling sun, blinking spots from his eyes as he looks back at Jim.

Jim takes him by the arm and turns him around, and Leonard finds himself standing against the window with his cheek pressed against it, Jim busily stripping his shirt off his arms.

"Hell," Leonard says, when he realizes what Jim has in mind, and he bites back a stronger curse when Jim grinds against him from behind, nudging against the vibrator still spreading him wide open. "Jim-"

"Been wanting to do this since the first day you walked into my office."

"It’s the middle of the day," Leonard protests, staring down at the street below in mortification. "What if-"

"I’ll give you the rest of the day off. And we’re on the tenth floor," Jim reminds him, rocking against him again. "They’d have to be looking real hard to see." His hand gropes down between Leonard’s body and the window, giving him a quick squeeze that leaves him breathless. "Then again, you’re real _hard_ yourself by now, aren’t you?”

"Jackass," Leonard growls, pushing back against him desperately. "C’mon, Jim-" He cuts off with a startled moan when Jim abruptly undoes his pants, yanking them down past his hips and around his knees. His cock bounces free, the tip gliding across the glass window and leaving a messy streak, and Leonard ruts forward helplessly to try and gain more friction.

Jim’s hand on his hip puts a stop to that, and Leonard clenches his eyes shut at the feel of two fingers against the base of the vibrator, lightly tracing the line between plastic and oversensitive flesh. “Fuck,” Leonard mutters, resting his forehead against the window. “Jim, I need. I need-“

"I gotcha," Jim murmurs, and he grasps the vibrator, works it out gently. Leonard keens at the emptiness it leaves, and he thrusts back onto Jim’s fingers, hearing Jim mirror his moan as his fingers slide in to the knuckle with a slick, effortless sound.

"Oh, fuck, Bones," Jim says. "Look at you, taking it so well." He crooks his fingers and Leonard’s hands scrabble on the smooth glass, trying to gain purchase on the slippery surface.

"Fuck me," Leonard gasps, all dignity tossed to the corners, and he arches back impatiently. "I swear to God, Jim, I’ll come without you-"

He hears the clink of Jim’s belt and his presence disappears for a couple of seconds, the sound of a drawer opening and closing briefly making it past Leonard’s haze of arousal.

Jim’s fingers return without warning, three of them pressing inside him this time, and Leonard moans loudly, no longer caring about being naked in his boss’ office, pressed against his window for the entirety of San Francisco to see.

"Fuck," Jim mutters, and then he’s pulling out, something much larger and hotter than his fingers nudging at Leonard’s hole. "Don’t come, Bones," he says, and then he’s pushing inside Leonard in one smooth thrust.

Leonard’s breath catches and his groan sticks in his throat. All he can do is hang on as Jim fucks him hard, pinning Leonard’s left wrist to the window and reaching around him to jerk him off with the other. They form a haphazard rhythm, Leonard spreading his legs as apart as far as he can with his pants still around his ankles, his abdomen tensing and shivering with every rough stroke of Jim’s hand, every roll of his hips.

"Jim," he gasps, staring up into the sun, and it’s all the warning he can give before he’s tensing and breaking, his eyes burning and his heart pounding as he paints the glass in front of him with thick strands of come.

"Fuck, Bones," Jim moans, increasing the speed of his thrusts, and Leonard reaches back blindly, finds the tight muscle of Jim’s ass and digs his nails into it as Jim pushes into him, slams him against the window, and comes with a muffled shout.

They stand there for some time, Leonard trying to remember how to breathe and Jim sagging against him contentedly.

“Love you,” Jim murmurs, mouthing at the back of his neck, and Leonard’s heart stops, his ears ringing.

_Shit._

Jim sighs and kisses the skin beneath Leonard’s ear, blissfully unaware that he’s flipped Leonard’s world upside down and turned it inside out.

After a second, Leonard forces himself to move, to stir his heavy limbs into action, and he pushes away from the glass, brushing Jim aside gruffly. “I gotta go.”

"Bones?" He can hear the confusion in Jim’s voice and doesn’t turn around, bending instead to pull on his clothes. The fabric catches and sticks on his wet skin, and he grimaces slightly at the discomfort. This isn’t how he wanted it to go- this is why he should have ended things months ago. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing." Leonard buttons up his shirt distractedly, curses silently when he realizes he’s missed one, and does the whole thing over again. "Just remembered something I needed to do." He rolls up his tie, shoves it in his pocket, and picks up his jacket. "You gave me the rest of the day off, right?"

"Right," Jim says, after a short pause, but Leonard can hear that he’s upset. He tells himself that he doesn’t care, and he steels himself before he turns around. Jim’s still slouching against the window, his shoulders hunched in and his eyes glancing up at Leonard in bewildered hurt. Leonard takes a deep breath and tries to suppress the instinct to walk over and pull the kid into his arms.

"The windows are tinted, by the way," Jim says offhandedly, looking back down at the floor. "First thing I had them do to the office."

Leonard nods jerkily, offers an empty smile. “Yeah.”

"Call me later?" Jim asks, when Leonard’s reached the door. He pauses with his hand on the latch and wonders why, if this is the right thing, that it feels so wrong to turn his back on the man behind him.

"No, I don’t think so, Jim," he says.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim calls him exactly twenty-seven times, until Leonard eventually silences his phone and hides it under his pillow so that he can’t see the screen.

It’s for the best, he tells himself over and over again, until the words become a useless mantra that don’t seem to fit together anymore. It reminds him of when he was a kid, saying one word repeatedly until it falls apart and leaves him confused and unsettled.

 _Thank God it’s a Friday_. It’s the only consolation he has, that he doesn’t work weekends.

Leonard ends up calling Nyota and drinks himself to complacency, lying on his couch with his head in her lap and a half-empty bottle dangling loosely in his hand.

"Don’t say ‘I told you so,’ Ny," he murmurs, pulling a cushion over his face to block out the light. "I’m an idiot."

"You are," she tells him. "A damn idiot, Len, for ending it like that."

"I didn’t have a choice," he protests, and she yanks the cushion off his face, lips pursed disapprovingly. "Besides, thought you didn’t like the idea of-"

"I didn’t want you hurting yourself _,”_ Nyota says, exasperated. “And look what you’ve gone and done anyway!”

Leonard stares up at her helplessly and wants to cry.

"Aw, Len," Ny sighs, and she takes the bottle from his hand, polishes it off herself before making a face. "It’s been two days, you’ll have to see him soon anyway."

"Not if I can help it." He tries not to think about the way he left Jim alone in his own office, wondering why the hell Leonard walked out on him, because it hurts twice as bad to think of Jim in pain.

"It’s not that I don’t like him," Nyota says grudgingly. "He’s got a good head on him. When he uses it for more than looking pretty."

Leonard snorts, and she grins down at him. “He’s good for you.”

"I’m not good for him," Leonard says, sobering up again quickly. "If we get caught-"

"See, that’s always been the thing with you," she interrupts. "You don’t know when it’s worth taking the risk. I think now it’s time you figure that out for yourself."

Leonard scowls, knowing the end of a conversation when he sees one, and he sits up to let Nyota stand as she gathers her coat and swipes the last beer.

"Don’t take too long," is the last thing she says.

He feels the phone buzz beneath his head that night and pulls it out warily. It’s a text, one of many from Jim that he’s forced himself to ignore, but he stares at this one for a good while.

**We need to talk.**

Leonard’s slightly beyond tipsy, halfway between that and drunk, and his fingers stumble over the keys before he can stop himself.

**Tomorrow at Finney’s. 7?**

It’s a long time before Jim answers and Leonard almost feels relieved, but then his screen blinks again with the response.

**See you then.  
**

………………..

Finney’s is a small bar, not too far from the piers, and when Len first moved here, he used to take walks along the harbor after a couple of drinks. Feel the salty wind against his face, taste it on his lips and feel the spray in his hair. There weren’t any beaches where he came from, or harbors or seals or silver-crested waves, and he used to make the best of his new scenery before life took over and reduced his world to concrete and traffic.

He arrives at the bar ten minutes to seven and isn’t all that surprised to see Jim already waiting at the bar, busily making new friends with the bartender.

The look on his face when he sees Leonard at the door…..it hurts more than Leonard expected, and he puts on a polite smile as he approaches. Jim’s face falls a little, and Leonard realizes belatedly that the false demeanor probably says more than any other expression.

"Hey, Bones," he says quietly, and Leonard takes a seat beside him. "How’ve you been?"

"All right." Leonard looks him over, medical concern briefly taking over any awkwardness between them. "Better than you, by the looks of it."

Jim chuckles humorlessly, rubbing his jaw with one hand and blinking at the counter. His eyes are gaunt, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them, and it looks like he hasn’t shaved since Leonard saw him last. “Yeah, well. Been dealing with some things recently.”

The bartender arrives with a couple of drinks and Jim takes his with a nod, playing with the glass. “Why?” is all he asks, eyes focused on the play of light through his amber beverage, and Leonard looks away at his own drink.

"You know why."

"Suppose I don’t," Jim says heatedly. He takes a sip, then another, and sets his glass down again. "Suppose I’d like an explanation," he says, his voice a little rougher from the burn of alcohol. "I think I deserve at least that much."

Leonard hesitates, curses silently, and drains his glass in one gulp, tossing a folded bill on the counter and standing abruptly. “Let’s walk.”

Jim follows him out of Finney’s and towards the piers, walking just a step behind Leonard so that he can hear his footsteps, his quiet breathing, but never see his face. In some ways, Leonard’s grateful for it.

"I’m sorry I…..left like that," Leonard finally says, nervousness turning his stomach over as he speaks. He stops at the edge of the docks, facing out towards the ocean, and feels Jim come to a stop behind him. "It wasn’t right. I should’ve said something."

"Was it something I did? Bones, if I ever-"

"Wasn’t you, Jim." Leonard sighs and pushes his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. God, he’s never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it’s the last thing he wants to be doing and every fiber in his body is screaming that this is wrong. "It just can’t happen. We can’t be _together_ like…like that.”

"But we were," Jim argues. "We were, Bones, the only thing that wasn’t there was the words, and you feel the same way, I know you do-"

"Doesn’t matter," Leonard cuts in. "I shouldn’t have let it get so far."

There’s a short pause, and he thinks that maybe that’s it, then-

"Bones, I love you," Jim says. "I meant it back then and I mean it now."

Leonard sighs. “You’re not making this easy-“

"Maybe I don’t want to," Jim snaps. "And I’ll keep on saying it if that’s what it takes. I love-"

"You can’t," Leonard says, and every word kills him all over again. "It’s- it was never a good idea, you know that."

"Why not?" Jim asks defiantly. "Why the hell not, Bones? We’re good together, we could be _better,_ if you just let-“

Leonard exhales and watches the moonlight flickering over the choppy waves. “Jim.”

"I love you," Jim says again, his voice unsteady now, and Leonard tenses, staring out over the dark water. "Bones, I-I love you, please don’t…" His voice cracks and Leonard stops breathing, trying to unclench the sudden knot in his chest. "Don’t just walk away like this."

"I’m sorry," Leonard says, knowing the excuse is old as time and just as meaningless. "But it’s for the-"

"It’s for the best," Jim finishes for him. "Right?"

Leonard bites his lip. “Right.”

"Fuck that," Jim says, and there’s a fresh vehemence in his voice that surprises Leonard, and he remembers exactly why he didn’t want to have this conversation in public.

"Jim-"

"Fuck my job," Jim continues loudly. "Fuck society, and fuck you for thinking that you matter less to me than some shiny name tag and a big desk!"

Jim’s moved closer to him without him noticing, Leonard realizes, and between the harbor to his front and the building storm at his back, he’s thoroughly trapped.

"Is that why you ended it?" Jim asks, and his voice is quieter, but no less intense. " You thought I wouldn’t choose you every damn time? I’d go to the stars and back for you, Bones. I’d-"

"You’d go anyway, for the hell of it," Leonard says unthinkingly, and he knows as well as Jim that he’s already lost the battle. Lost the entire goddamn war, more like, as if he’s ever had a chance.

Jim’s arms wrap tightly around his waist, and Leonard exhales shakily at the warmth settling against his back. Fuck, he’s missed this, missed Jim, and he closes his eyes when Jim’s chin rests on his shoulder.

"I would," Jim agrees. "But I’d take you with me."

Leonard’s breath catches, and he wonders how he ever thought he’d be able to give this up. He turns in the circle of Jim’s arms, reaches up to touch Jim’s cheek and swallows when Jim leans his head into his hand. “The stars, huh?”

Jim nods quickly, his eyes bright and hopeful. “Hell, we’ll get married on the damn moon. Couples can still work together.”

It takes Leonard a couple of seconds to register the words, and he snorts loud enough to carry over the sound of the waves. “That’s some proposal.”

He can feel the heat of Jim’s flush against his palm. “I-” Jim splutters. “That wasn’t- I mean, not that I don’t- but- damn it, Bones, I was trying to be romantic, you ass.”

Leonard laughs despite himself, bumps their foreheads together, and smiles ruefully. “It was a nice try.”

Jim blinks hesitantly back at him, his eyes wet and oh hell, now he’s gone and made the kid cry. “I love you,” Jim tells him again doggedly, and Leonard feels the corner of his mouth quirk up before he leans forward and kisses away Jim’s uncertain frown.

"Love you too, kid," he says, and Jim grabs him so tightly and kisses him back so hard that Leonard’s afraid they’ll both fall into the ocean.

That night, they don’t make it back to either of their rooms and end up in a hotel room instead; Leonard has to laugh at the irony of it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an epilogue of sorts

"So," Jim begins conversationally one night, as if he isn’t balls deep in Leonard and busy screwing him into next Tuesday. "This Friday."

"What?" Leonard gasps, blinking sweat from his eyes and staring incredulously up at Jim. "How can you still- fuck- be _talking_?”

"Multitasking," Jim reminds him, and purposefully slows down so that Leonard grunts frustratedly and flails in exasperation. "So, the fundraiser."

"What…..the auction?" Leonard tries to focus, his cock telling him pointedly to get his hand, and preferably Jim, back into action and soon. "What ‘bout it?"

"You should do it," Jim says, rewarding him with a circular grind of his hips, and Leonard jerks, groans, digging his heels into the small of Jim’s back. "I mean, look at you. So fucking _hot_.” He punctuates his last word with a thrust that has Leonard’s toes curling.

He thinks that somewhere between that and his orgasm, Jim manages to get him to agree to the damn thing.

………………..

"This is terrible," Leonard grouses, plucking irritably at his cuff links- _cuff links_ , for fuck’s sake- and Jim brushes his hand away, fixing his sleeve meticulously.

"This is incredible," he corrects. "Haven’t you seen yourself?"

Leonard glares at his reflection, at every slicked, polished, and pinstriped inch of him, and scowls. “I can’t believe you made me shave for this.”

"I hear the clean-cut look is in now," Jim says vaguely. "Besides, I’ve got this terrible beard burn on my ass-"

Leonard watches himself turn red in the mirror and he glances around surreptitiously at the changing room, where the other participants of the auction are busy primping. Nobody seems to have heard, but then again-

"Why are you even in here?" Leonard demands, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the ground as Jim moves to stand in front of him, stepping in close on the pretense of adjusting Leonard’s tie. "Don’t you have socialites to chat up?"

"Just making a promise," Jim murmurs, glancing up stealthily at Leonard and quirking a secret smile, just for the two of them. "I’m gonna win you, Leonard." The way he says it sends a shiver through to Leonard’s core, and he has to fight to tamp down the eagerness in his voice when he answers.

"You better," he says gruffly, then the MC is poking his head, calling for everyone to climb the stage.

"Mother of God," Leonard says aloud, and he goes.

………………..

Jim bobs on his toes, trying to make out the stage over the heads of the gathered crowd. He’s pleasantly surprised by the turnout- part of him knows it’s somewhat due to word of mouth, talk of the handsome new doctor with the piercing eyes and perpetual scowl, which gives him mixed feelings of pride and possessiveness.

And hell, just look at Bones now, standing up there like a goddamn Armani model and glaring beautifully.

"He’s something else, isn’t he?" a voice murmurs at Jim’s elbow, and he glances over to see a woman standing there, spinning a glass absently between her long fingers. He vaguely recognizes her from seeing her with Bones a few times, thinks she might be one of the receptionist floor managers.

"Uhura," she says, noticing his puzzlement, and she holds out her hand. "Nice to finally meet you properly, Director."

"Jim," he corrects automatically. "What did you mean by-"

"Len talks about you all the time," she answers smoothly, leaving him feeling vaguely disgruntled and flattered all at once.

Fortunately, he’s saved from having to make a graceful reply when the bidding starts. Bones is one of the last, fidgeting uncomfortably at the end of the stage, and Jim tries to catch his eye in vain.

Uhura disappears at some point, and Jim waits out the auction impatiently, watching Bones’ every move. Sometimes Bones looks out over the crowd and Jim stands a little straighter, but Bones’ eyes pass over him obliviously every time, blinded by the spotlight.

Then Bones’ number comes up, and Jim forces himself to wait, to racket up the price so that he can place the bid that surely nobody would try to one-up.

"Three hundred," the auctioneer calls out after a few excitable seconds, followed by a contemplative muttering amongst the crowd. Bones is clearly stiff and out of his element, but still, to Jim’s eyes, the most attractive person in the entire room, the entire world, for that matter. Unfortunately, the appeal isn’t lost on any of the audience, and the numbers keep rising.

"Three-fifty," the auctioneer says cheerfully, and Jim raises his hand.

"Five hundred," he says, and he gives a satisfied smirk when Bones’ eyes widen at the sound of his voice.

"We have five hundred!" the auctioneer crows. "Do I have any takers for five twenty-five? Five twenty-five?"

Jim starts towards the stage, grinning, and a cool voice calls out from the back of the room. “Five-fifty.”

Bones gives a low groan that Jim can see, but can’t hear.

Jim spins around, searching for his contender, and spies Uhura in her glittering red dress, eyes fixed on the stage.

"Six hundred," Jim snaps, before the auctioneer can speak, but those dark eyes flick over to him in poorly concealed amusement.

"S-Six hundred," the auctioneer says, caught off guard, but he recovers gracefully and continues. "Six fifty, anyone? Anyone, six fifty-"

………………..

"Jesus Christ, eight hundred dollars?" Leonard asks mournfully afterwards, twirling the heavy silver fork despondently. "That kind of money-"

"It’s for a good cause," Nyota says dismissively. "And besides, the look on your Jim’s face was worth it."

Leonard winces slightly, remembering Jim’s crestfallen expression when the auctioneer nervously announced the cap for the bidding and awarded Leonard to the “amorous lady in red”. “He’s not going to be happy.”

"Are you kidding me? I just guaranteed you the best night of your life," Nyota insists. "Trust me, after he sees this, the sex will-"

"Not here," Leonard says hastily. They’re sitting in the reception area for the fundraiser, erected specially for the winners of the auction to enjoy their dates with their conquests. Their own little white table-clothed table has a case of red roses, the petals scattered enthusiastically around their feet and plates. Two tables away, he can see the back of Jim’s head as he mopes around with his own date, Leonard’s head nurse.

Leonard can almost find that amusing, imagining Jim trying to use his usual techniques in trying to converse with Christine. The woman’s in a league of her own.

………………..

"You know, you could try to look less delightful," Christine says acidly, and Jim blinks mournfully at her.

"I’m sorry," he sighs, Bones’ presence burning against his back, and all he wants to do is to turn around and _look_. “I’m just-“

"Distracted? Chronically impolite? Completely and tragically in love?"

Jim blinks involuntarily at the last one, and Christine smiles wide.

"Looks like I win the pool," she says cryptically.

………………..

Leonard’s ready to pass out and punch someone by the end of the fundraiser, possibly both, and he pulls his tie loose with a vengeance as he calls Jim’s cell.

"Yeah?" comes the muffled voice at the end, and Leonard frowns, trying to balance his phone between his ear and shoulder as he unbuttons his collar. The voice is oddly disjointed, the way it is if the other person is within hearing distance.

"Jim, where are you?" Leonard stops in the elevator hall, the apparently completely empty hall.

"Hiding," Jim says petulantly, and Leonard rolls his eyes so hard that it hurts.

"Yeah, figured that much. Hiding where?"

"Here," Jim says, and Leonard turns to see Jim leaning heavily against the wall, his shirt untucked and looking worse for the wear.

"How’d you get drunk on sparkling water?" Leonard wonders aloud as Jim limps pathetically towards him and slings his arms around Leonard’s neck.

"I’m sorry," Jim tells him. "Couldn’t win."

"You were up against Uhura. I would’ve been surprised if you managed." Leonard pats Jim’s back, surprised at the suddenly juvenile behavior, but not particularly displeased. "There’s nothing to be sorry about."

Jim says something incoherent into his shoulder, but Leonard thinks he gets the gist.

"She knows about us," he sighs, moving his hand up to the back of Jim’s head, and Jim hugs him even tighter. "There was nothing to worry about, kid."

"Don’t care," Jim mumbles, pressing a forceful bruise above Leonard’s collar. "Don’t care, don’t care-"

"You’re drunk," Leonard reminds him, reminds them both. "Let’s go, lover boy." He prods Jim out into the open, aiming him towards the elevator. "Your place or mine tonight?"

"Mine," Jim says decisively. "You’re mine."

Leonard feels himself flush as he hits the button for the parking garage, suddenly extremely grateful that they’re alone. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, enduring the sloppy kisses Jim places on his neck and jaw as he flops heavily against Leonard’s side. “Damn, Jim, you’re a sappy drunk, aren’t you?”

"Mmm," Jim argues happily. "Not drunk."

"That’s what they all say." _'Night of my life,' my ass,_ he thinks wryly, as he wrestles an increasingly uncooperative Jim out of the elevator and towards his car. It’s more likely he’ll spend the night watching Jim puke up his guts and tucking him in afterwards with a movie and a cuddle.

And somehow, that doesn’t seem half so bad, after all.


End file.
